As Silence Falls Part 2
by Breon Briarwood
Summary: Tragedy and aftermath in young Frodo's life. Rated for angstcharacter death. No slash.


As Silence Falls - Part 2  
Warning: Angst, Character Death  
Summary: Tragedy and aftermath  
A/N #1: For simplicity's sake, Bilbo and Saradoc are Frodo's uncles, and Esmeralda is Frodo's aunt.  
A/N #2: Tolkien doesn't specify what time of the year Frodo's parent died, so I chose the date to fit my need.  
A/N #3: One of these days I will actually use a beta. Until then all errors you find belong to me.  
Disclaimer: Don't own them. Never have, never will. Don't make any money either, so there!

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Chapter 2

"Frodo, would you like some more stew?"

Frodo sat with his head bowed and didn't give any response except a small nod of his head. Esmeralda sighed and reached for the ladle, to be stopped by a hand on her arm.

"Frodo? Was that a yes or a no," Saradoc asked.

"Sara."

"Esme," he said, a warning in his voice.

Frodo raised his head and gave a definitive nod.

"I'm sorry Frodo, you'll have to do better than that.""

Frodo just stared at him, blue eyes shining with tears.

"Sara, please,"

"Esmeralda, if he's to live in this smial, then he will speak when spoken to and do as he's told."

Frodo's gaze flicked back and forth between the two, his lower lip trembling as he shook his head 'no'.

"Saradoc, give the lad some time! He's still in shock."

"How much time does he need Esme?" Saradoc's voice grew louder as his frustration took hold. "He won't speak to us, or anyone for that matter. I don't know what to do with him."

Frodo dropped his head to the table, face hidden by his arms, and wept silently.

"Now see what you've done, Sara?"

Frodo's sobs shook his small frame but no sound came forth. She reached over to rub his back, hoping to soothe the grief-stricken young hobbit, but her actions appeared to have the opposite effect. Frodo jumped up from the table and ran out of the room, tears streaming down his face.

"Dear Eru, just give him time," she whispered.

!--&--!

Esmeralda rounded the corner on her way to the kitchens to give the cooks that night's dinner menu, and nearly ran into a small hobbit running at a breakneck pace the other way, clothes dirty and torn, the tears obvious on his face.

"Frodo? What's wrong dear?" she asked as she caught hold of him. Frodo wriggled in her arms like a snake, trying to get free. "Frodo! Hold!"

He stilled in her grasp, head hanging, tears trickling off cheeks that she now saw were bruised. He sobbed quietly while she stroked a cool hand over his brow, sweeping back the hair and inspecting the damage. His face was dirty and tear tracks made muddy lines to his scraped and bloody chin, his lip swollen and bruised as well.

"Tell me who did this, Frodo. Who have you been fighting with?"

Frodo remained silent, eyes fixed on the floor.

"Frodo, please? Why don't you tell me about it?"

Frodo's head shot up, a horrified look in his eyes as a new freshet of tears coursed down.

"Hush now, no need for tears. I'm not angry with you-"

Frodo flinched at her words, breaking her grip and ran down the corridor.

"Eru, help us all..."she intoned.

!--&--!

The day dawned clear and bright. The birds were chattering and whistling their merry tunes. The fluffy white clouds were playing tag with the sun, and in one corner of the shire a little lad awoke. His gentle waking like the sunrise, slowly, dreamily coming to awareness. He pulled himself from his bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and looked out the window. It was shaping up to be a beautiful day. He glanced at the calendar on the wall and unwanted memories intruded. Suddenly, the day wasn't so bright anymore...

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The party was a grand affair with lots of children and family, and plenty of good food. The young ones darted to and fro playing their games. Weaving in and out among the bushes and trees they ran, a riot of noise and color.

Frodo sat watching them, back stiff against the tree, a mighty scowl upon his face. No one but his Aunt Esmeralda dared to approach. She knew it was useless to ask, but felt she should try anyway.

"Frodo, why don't you go and play?"

Frodo just shook his head and sat there, glaring at the happy children. Several boisterous tykes started a tickling game, the shrieks of laughter echoing across the field. Frodo stood, a strange expression crossing his face, and for a brief moment Esme thought she had succeeded. But then he turned and marched off angrily to a different, further, tree, and resumed his vigil.

Puzzled and at wit's end, Esme followed him, asking, "Why? Why Frodo? Why won't you play with the other children?"

His only answer was to move to the other side of the tree, away from the party.

" Why won't you talk to me? To anyone? We understand you're still grieving. Let us help you," she pleaded.

Frodo dismissed her pleas, turning his face to stare off across the hills, toward the river.

"Your parents wouldn't want you to waste your life like this," she said. "Your mother wouldn't want to see you this way."

She turned and left then, not seeing the tears as they rolled down his cheeks, or his lips move in silent supplication.

--;--

"Frodo? Esme said you were over here. Mind if I join you," Bilbo asked as he sat himself down.

Frodo's eyes held a small spark to see his favorite relative but no greeting came forth.

"She's very upset. She only wants to help you." Bilbo paused to fill his pipe, and give Frodo a chance to answer if he would.

When he was sure that no response would be given he slipped his arm around the lad and hugged him gently. "Frodo, my lad, I can't stand to see you hurting so. Please won't you speak to me? Why this silence?"

Frodo leaned into the hug, resting his head on Bilbo's shoulder as a great shuddering sigh escaped him.

"You know, your mother loved the sound of your voice, your singing," he chuckled to himself, "she said your laughter was like music to her ears."

Frodo shook his head 'no' as he wrapped his arms around his uncle and burst into tears with a great heaving sob. "Of course she did," he exclaimed as he pulled Frodo into his lap, "she said nothing brought her more pleasure than to hear your merry voice."

Frodo looked his uncle with disbelief. The grief in his eyes so overwhelming that Bilbo almost didn't hear the tiny gasped "no" that came after.

"Frodo?" Bilbo was astonished as he saw Frodo's throat working and heard a small voice, rusty with disuse.

"Mama...s- said... I m-must... be... quiet," he rasped out.

"What?" Bilbo was too astonished at hearing his nephew's whisper to comprehend what he was saying.

"After the party... I was making.. so much.. noise and... bother... She got... really angry. She... yelled at me.. and.. sent me to.. my room. I said I...I didn't like her. "

Bilbo clutched Frodo to him as the words came tumbling out.

"She came in later - to say good night, but I wouldn't talk to her," he cried. " I wouldn't even look at her."

"Oh..."

"She said she would be back... when I learned how to behave myself... and keep quiet. And I tried Uncle, I did! But she hasn't come back," he wailed, "she hasn't come back!"

"Oh! Oh, Frodo... my dear boy...."

-tbc-

Final A/N: the story has one more chapter. Hope to have it done soon.


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